


you weren't part of the plan

by error_in_execution



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Alternate Universe - Neighbors, Angst, M/M, Post-Canon, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-20
Updated: 2020-11-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:49:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27645080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/error_in_execution/pseuds/error_in_execution
Summary: “I’m your neighbour from now on,” he says, with the same childish lilt in his voice, “It’s nice to meet you.”Saihara rubs his eyes. This guy kind of looks like Ouma.(After the killing game, Saihara decides to rent an apartment on the highest floor. He doesn't expect his new neighbour to ruin to his plan.)
Relationships: Oma Kokichi/Saihara Shuichi
Comments: 10
Kudos: 151





	you weren't part of the plan

Saihara’s neighbour was weird. Weird in an uncomfortable way, like a thought that sat at the back of his mind and had goosebumps rise up on his skin every time he was reminded of it. But not alarming enough for him to call the police or anything like that. No, Saihara’s neighbour was a pretty average, ordinary guy, and that’s what’s weird about it. 

Because he was sure his guy was Ouma Kokichi. And Ouma Kokichi was not supposed to be normal. 

At least, that’s what Saihara remembered about Ouma. Childish, sneaky, suspicious. It’s been a while since the killing game ended, he’d been so consumed by grief since then his memories could be wrong, but he knew for sure his neighbour was weird. 

Like the fact his neighbour didn’t even know him.

+

It started off with renting an apartment on the highest floor, which was part of Saihara’s plan to die.

Saihara had told his uncle he was done with therapy and things are back to normal, he was going to find a job as a detective and meet new friends and live life like a functioning adult. His uncle were hesitant to let him go at first, but perhaps it was the amount of voluntary services and part-time jobs he took that convinced him he was mentally stable enough to live alone.

It was so easy convincing his uncle he’d finally moved on from the killing game.

It’s part of the plan, Saihara kept thinking as his shaking fingers pulled out the key from his pocket. It felt terrifying standing at the door of his new home, knowing this was going to be his tomb. His luggage waited by his leg, a prop with nothing in it but his phone and wallet. He’d slipped the key into the keyhole and before he could push the door open, it was then life decided to slap him in the face and say, _nope! Things won’t be going your way today!_

“Hey you, are you new?”

This was not part of the plan.

When he spun to meet the person behind him, any words he had died away on his lips.

He’d almost mistaken the stranger for a child. He didn’t recognise the baggy clothes, but he knew that short stature. He recognised those wavy strands of hair. The pale skin. And those lilac eyes that gleamed like bright, polished amethysts. That was the first time he’d come face to face with Ouma Kokichi.

“I’m your neighbour from now on,” the stranger with Ouma’s face said, with the same childish lilt in his voice, “It’s nice to meet you.”

+

The detective had many regrets, and he couldn’t help but think about them when his neighbour looked like one of his dead classmates.

Scratch that, his neighbour looked _exactly_ like his dead classmate. An unsettling fear crept up his spine. He was living next to a clone of the supreme leader. How likely was it he was going to meet Ouma’s doppelganger, let alone be neighbours with one? Was this some sort reincarnated soul that came to punish him after all?

He spent the last few hours sitting on the floor, phone shaking in hand, contemplating whether to text Harukawa about it. The girl was probably too busy studying right now to pick up his call. Knowing her, she’ll probably tell him to go back to therapy and stop imagining their dead friend was alive. Unlike him, Harukawa was realistic like that. But his neighbour looked too much like Ouma to be a different person.

Only when the clock struck six did Saihara look up from his phone. The light of his new apartment had faded to a dim orange hue. It’s been hours. He’d been so busy thinking about his neighbour he’d forgotten to unpack the little stuff he had. And for a moment, a blissful moment, it seemed like he’d also forgotten what he came here to do.

Saihara’s eyes land on the nearest open window, which was beckoning him. His mind wandered to his fall and that feeling of dread returned to his stomach. It was his best chance to do it right now, to slip off his shoes and let himself go for good.

But that neighbour—

With a sigh, Saihara set the phone down. Seeing someone who looked so much like Ouma was his divine punishment from some god. He decided to give himself several days to get to know his neighbour, make amends for his pathetic past, then he’ll jump. Nothing wrong with letting himself linger a little longer on earth. It’ll be easy. Things will still go according to plan.

+

The second time he met his neighbour was at a convenience store.

Saihara didn’t bring much with him moving to his apartment, he was expecting to die after all. But with the new change, he found himself buried between the aisles searching for food and drinks to last him a few more days. The store felt a like the hospital he’d woken up in months ago, with the air perfumed with plastic wraps, ground made of white stone and the air a perfect chill, but even so he tried to ignore the nausea rising to his throat to put some ramen into his shopping basket.

It was from the corner of his eye that he spotted someone purple coming his way.

“We meet again, Neighbour-chan.”

The Ouma clone drew closer, dragging his cart beside him.

“My name’s Saihara Shuichi.”

“Oops. I mean, we meet again, _Saihara-chan_!”

He shuddered at the familiarity of those words. “Um,” he swallowed, collecting himself. “Good morning. Are you grocery shopping?”

When the supreme leader stopped next to him. The taller noticed his shopping cart was only filled with bottles of Panta and machine oils. The shorter hummed, “Yeah.” he said. “Just wanted to get some fresh air too. I hate staying in that cramped home of mine.”

Saihara nodded, basket growing heavy in his hand.

“Y’know, I hate staying in too often. It’s sooooo—“

“Suffocating?”

“Yeah. How’d you know?” Saihara didn’t want to tell the shorter boy he’s always imagined what his classmates would’ve been like if they’d survived the killing game. More often than not, he could see Ouma developing some fear of tight spaces because he’d been crushed to death. “Just a guess,” he shrugged. “I’m… good at guessing.”

“Then you’re a smart guy.” the supreme leader chuckled. Then strangely, his body twitched like a computer glitch. “Anyway, I wanted to stop by your place today just to say if you ever need help or directions, you can come to me. But it looks like you’re doing fine seeing as you’re getting food.”

“Um. Thank you.”

“No problemo. You know where to find me if you need help.”

It was when he disappeared down the aisle that Saihara realised his neighbour hadn’t given his name. It's all right. Ouma will tell him when he felt ready. 

+

His mind took off down memory lane often. Mostly memories to do with the killing game.

_“Hey Saihara-chan! You ever think ‘bout what you wanna do if you get outta here?”_

_“I’ll probably go see how my uncle’s doing...”_

_Ouma laughed, calling him a bore. “What does that mean?”_

_“It means exactly what it means. You could’ve said anything else, like you’d start your married life with a cute girl like Akamatsu-chan, buy an ol' mansion, have kids and then open some kinda gym with Momota-chan. That’s what you could’ve said.”_

_It didn't seem like the life he wanted to have at all. “Th-then, what about you, Ouma-kun?” Saihara said. “What would you do if you escaped the killing game?”_

_“Hm. I think I’d like to be with you forever!”_

He’d brushed it off as a joke that time, and now thinking back, that could’ve been the cruelest thing he’d done.

+

When Saihara wasn’t fantasizing about his eventual death, he kept thinking how this Ouma was nothing like killing game Ouma. He could’ve been neighbours with someone who had the face of Akamatsu or Momota. Things would’ve been less confusing. But instead it was Ouma— who was now normal. Too honest. Knowing the real supreme leader this was probably a prank of some sort, but Saihara needed to get to know this neighbour more to deduce that.

Which was how he ended up in supreme leader's living room.

“You always carry that curious look on your face,” the shorter said with a smile, setting down a plate of food and taking a seat. “Thanks for accepting my invitation, by the way.”

“N-no, thank you for cooking me dinner.”

Ouma had invited Saihara over for dinner at his place. He couldn’t decline when he wanted to know about this clone, and he thought he might’ve gotten a clue when he saw how much his apartment looked like the supreme leader’s dorm in the killing game. Four concrete walls of scribbles bottles and wrappers lying across the floor, drawers open with belongings on top of each other in them, and paper scraps scattered on and around the desk like snow. Saihara was seated on a couch in front of an table, and the home-made curry wafted through the air.

“Sorry ‘bout the mess. I totally forgot to clean before you came in.”

“It’s fine.”

“Hopefully you won’t have a bad impression of me, heh.”

Saihara shook his head, telling him it was fine. When he spooned curry into his mouth, he noticed Ouma staring at him from across the table, eyes gleaming with anticipation. There was a faint smile on his lips. “Is it yummy?”

He felt something stir inside of him like a gentle ripple of an cold pond thawing in spring. Has this Ouma always been so… adorable?

“It’s good.” he said, because it was the truth. He hadn’t tasted good cooking since Tojo, “You have a talent for this.”

“Talent, huh. Now that’s a big fat lie.” he laughed, folding his arms on the table. “I’m good at a lotta things, but cooking isn’t one of them.”

Saihara chewed, carefully picking his words. “Is that so…”

“Yeah. I’d say I’m pretty good at video games though, or games in general. I’ve got a natural talent of _those_ sorta things.” he said. “I like chess the most. Wanna play when you’re done?”

This guy was different from Ouma, Saihara had thought. But in a way, he was still the same. He had to be the same. “Okay.”

Throughout the night, he pretended not to notice the oil stains and the Monokuma poster taped in the corner of the room.

+

They had fun together. Most days when Ouma wasn't around, Saihara stayed in bed. The grey clouds still clung to his body when he laid there, staring out that small caged window, wondering when the shitty feeling would disappear. But like the sun after the rain, things always brightened when the supreme leader was present. They did many things; played video games in his apartment, cooked, watched documentaries about mafias. Like normal friends rather than neighbours.

“My beloved, I baked some Panta-flavoured cupcakes for you!”

He grimaced. “Uh, what?”

“Just try it. You don’t want me to force-feed you, do you?”

"No!"

"Just kidding, nishishi."

It’s weird how over time Ouma was beginning to act more and more like himself. Saihara was happy about that. Soon they could live life normally, just the detective and the supreme leader. 

+

When Saihara met Ouma next, they’d kissed.

To the shorter boy, it was a long-time crush, but for Saihara, it was a feeling he didn't recognise until now. The detective disliked Ouma’s presence back then. When Ouma was constantly clinging to his arm all the time, calling him names, teasing and smirking at him. Things the he used to find irritating about Ouma were now things that felt uncomfortable when they were gone, and he knew that he was in love. 

Saihara had his hand resting tendering at the back of his neighbour's head. As he caressed his purple hair softly, he glanced at the shorter guy for permission. With a nod, the corner of Saihara’s lips lifted before their mouths met. It was a little awkward at first, some fumbling and giggling, but it was sweet and soft and comforting in ways that words could never be.

Since the killing game, he thought he didn’t want to die anymore. He was happy. 

But he should've known better. Because Ouma invited Saihara over one day, and that was when things went to hell.

"I want to tell you something, Saihara-chan."

He seemed a littler nervous that day when he said he wanted to show Saihara one of his rooms he’d never been to. Saihara didn’t think it was a big deal after their kiss, probably some gay porn stash hidden in there or something. But when Ouma dragged him through that white door did he realise what was really happening.

A small room. Walls covered in pictures, posters, newspaper clippings of robots and Danganronpa. Photos of machines and diagrams of AI's, everywhere. Piles of metallic limbs in the corner of the room and screws scattered across the floor. Things Kiibo himself used to have in his dorm. 

It was a joke. It had to be.

Saihara glanced at the shorter boy for an explanation, but he only smiled bitterly. “I’m sorry. I wanted to tell you for a while.”

When Saihara searched his face, really tried to search, he found nothing. Just a face, the exact copy of Ouma Kokichi, except it looked... fake. Man-made. Like smooth plastic, his lilac eyes looked more like empty orbs and his hair was lacking in its purple colour like dried up plants. 

This wasn't Ouma Kokichi. 

+

“Who the hell are you?” Saihara demanded, choking back a sob. “What did you do to Ouma-kun?”

The neighbour— no, the thing wearing Ouma’s face, straightened. “I wanted to tell you. I _am_ Ouma, just not the real one.”

“What?”

“The real Ouma Kokichi died in the killing game.” his brows knitted in concern. “You know this, don’t you, Saihara-chan?”

That name. “Don’t say it,” he backed away quickly with fists clenched so hard he thought his fingers may break. “What are you? What do you want from me? Are another one of Monokuma’s clones trying to kill me?”

He sighed. “If I wanted to kill you, I would’ve done so.”

“You’re lying!”

“Look, I’ve lived in this apartment for months. It was purely coincidence that you became my neighbour.” he said, and sure enough the apartment did look well-lived. “Deep down, you _knew_ I wasn’t really the Ouma you met in the game. So why the hell are you so upset?”

Tears fell from Saihara’s eyes. His head throbbed. He fell to his knees on the cold ground. Through the tears, he watched as the thing knelt down before him.

“Hey. Listen to me,” The thing held Saihara’s gaze, holding him by the shoulders. His face unreadable. “I was an empty machine before they gave me… Ouma Kokichi’s memories. I gained his personality, his thoughts and motives,” he closed his eyes, “There was a plan in Team Danganronpa, for the dead students to be replaced. So the families of said students won’t be so sad. But when I woke up as him, I felt everything Ouma had felt. His desire to escape the killing game… for everyone to be okay.”

“Then… Ouma-kun’s really—“

“Dead, yes.” he said, smiling sadly, “The real Ouma Kokichi really did get crushed to little bits and pieces. I was going to live my life, but I’m here now. With you.”

“But, why?” he gasped. All those times he spent with him, who he’d thought was the real Ouma. The first time they met, food he’d cooked for him, the kisses they shared. “Why are you—?”

“Because the late Ouma Kokichi wanted you to be happy.” he answered simply. “I still feel it— his feelings for you never changed even when he died.”

_I think I’d like to be with Saihara-chan forever._

“I feel his love for you. Because after all, I am his memories and his emotions. I know them all to be true.”

+

None of it was part of the plan.

Two neighbours. Sharing the same room, sharing the same bed. Sharing kisses and laughter and tears. They slept soundlessly. Dusk fading in so slowly that they don’t notice the room vanishing into darkness.

None of it was part of the plan. Things didn't go Saihara's way or even Ouma's way in the end. But it’s better, lovelier like that. At least they could exist together now, and that's all that mattered to them. 


End file.
